ions. Within that year
you are not to see me or communicate with me.'

"'But,' he cried, 'if Kaffar is dead, if these terrible evidences of
murder are real, then in a year--say next Christmas Eve; 'twas on
Christmas Eve we first met in England--then you will promise to be my
wife?'

"'I promise.'

"'And your promise shall be irrevocable?'

"She turned on him with scorn. 'The promise of a lady is ever
irrevocable,' she said.

"'Ah!' cried Voltaire, 'love is a stronger passion than vengeance, and my
love will win yours.'

"'Meanwhile,' she went on without noticing this rhapsody, 'if you breathe
one word or utter one sound by which suspicion can fall on Mr. Blake, my
promise is forfeited; if you stay here after to-morrow, or attempt to
see me within this and next Christmas Eve, my promise is also
forfeited.'

"'What, am I to leave you at once?'

"'At once.'

"He left the room immediately after," said Tom, "while, after saying
'Good-night' to me, she too retired to her bedroom."

To say that I was astonished at the turn things had taken would not give
the slightest idea of my feelings. And yet a great joy filled my heart.
The sword of Damocles, which seemed to hang over my head, possessed no
terror.

"Is that all, Tom?" I said at length.

"This morning, as I told you, he arranged for Kaffar's luggage to be
sent to Egypt, while he himself is preparing to depart."

"Where is he going?"

"To London."

"And Miss Forrest?"

"She, I hope, will stay with us for some time. But, Justin, can you
really give no explanation of these things? Surely you must be able to?"

"I cannot, Tom. I am hedged in on every side. I'm enslaved, and I cannot
tell you how. My life is a mystery, and at times a terror."

"But do you know what has become of Kaffar?"

"No more than that dog barking in the yard. All is dark to me."

Tom left me then, while I, with my poor tired brain, tried to think what
to do.

CHAPTER XIII

A MESMERIST'S SPELL

I found on entering the breakfast-room that my presence caused no
surprise, neither did any of the guests regard me suspiciously. It had
gone abroad that I had gone out to find Kaffar, but was unable to do so;
and as Voltaire had publicly spoken of Kaffar's luggage being sent to
Cairo, there was, to them, no mystery regarding him.

Several spoke of his going away as being a good riddance, and declared
him to be unfit for respectable society; but I did not answer them, and
a